


A Fine Pair

by kiyala



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Living Together, M/M, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-04-16
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1474117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiyala/pseuds/kiyala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Inception, Arthur doesn't know what to do. So he goes to Eames' house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fine Pair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perrysian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perrysian/gifts).



There's a spectre taking up residence on Eames' couch. He would say _shade_ but even he is not that dramatic and besides, he is certain that one needs to die in order to become a shade. Apparently not, when it comes to spectres. All it takes is running around behind Dom Cobb for a good two years.

Arthur is here because he doesn't know where else to be. Because after two years of pretending that he's Cobb's personal robot, he's left looking for his off button, having forgotten that he doesn't _have_ one. Because not knowing what else to do, Arthur has tried to go back to what he was doing _before_ Mal's death and the protracted mess than followed.

Before Mal jumped off a building and to her death, Arthur had been living with Eames in something that felt a little like domestic bliss, and a lot like love. But that had been two years and countless arguments ago. Arthur is not here to rekindle their relationship, he's only here to reconcile his emotions, to regroup his thoughts and figure out what comes next. Arthur can think on his feet better than anyone else that Eames knows. Without the gun to his back, the threat of failure hanging over his head, he isn't quite as fast.

So Arthur is sleeping on Eames' couch and drinking coffee out of his second favourite mug while they carefully tread the line between acknowledging each other and pretending not to see each other at all. The ghost of a nearly-successful relationship, so hauntingly familiar and yet so fundamentally different in all the ways that trip Eames up when things are starting to feel a little too familiar. 

Arthur was always jumpy after Project Somnacin but having a gun pulled on him has become a daily occurrence for Eames and it doesn't even come with all the fun and notoriety that he had hoped it would when he reached that point. It makes sense that life should disappoint him on that front too.

The survivors of Project Somnacin, Eames knows, can be counted on the one hand. In fact, they can be counted on two fingers and it only makes sense that they stick together, to puzzle through the process of healing with each other.

At the time, Eames had been utterly delighted when Arthur had questioned why they had to _heal_ when they could do just as much damage, if not more. Eames has since come to realise that Arthur doesn't heal, quite possibly doesn't know how to. Eames has long-since cured himself of the notion of helping Arthur with that. Over the past two years, Eames had very nearly cured himself of the notion of helping Arthur at all, but here he is, after they've pulled off an inception while working together.

Eames doesn't know what challenge to seek out now that he's managed inception. Arthur doesn't know whose problems to take on to ignore his own. They've always made a fine pair that way.

•

"You're touching me."

Eames raises an eyebrow and very pointedly _doesn't_ move his leg from where it's brushing against Arthur's. "You're sitting on _my_ couch."

Arthur has been here for two months now. He's moved from the couch to the spare room but spends most of his time on the couch anyway. He's made no mention of moving elsewhere and neither has Eames. They know how to live together without actively wanting to kill each other, as much as they don't let anyone else they work with realise this. They have an unspoken truce and don't need to think too hard when they're around each other and Eames can't think of anyone better to share his space with anyway.

•

"You're out of milk."

Eames grunts in acknowledgement, sinking further into the couch and not taking his eyes off the television.

"Eames."

"Yes, I heard you. Go and buy some if you want. Shop's only a five minute walk down the street."

Arthur doesn't reply. Twelve minutes later, he's putting two bottles of milk into the fridge and walks into the lounge room.

"Oof." Eames startles as Arthur sits down, half on top of him. "Watch it."

"You're in my spot," Arthur replies, picking up the remote and changing the channel.

"Do you mind?" Eames asks, caught somewhere between amusement and genuine irritation.

"Not at all," Arthur replies. "Make me some coffee?"

•

"We're running out of gas for the stove," Arthur says as he sets the table for dinner. "And I'm pretty sure that the shower is dying."

"Well then," Eames says cheerfully. "I guess we'll just have to shower together from now on."

"Very funny." Arthur sits down and folds his arms on the table in front of him. "I bought a place."

"Oh." Eames keeps his smile in place. "So you're leaving me then. Back to work, I assume?"

"Your house is falling apart. Literally, in some cases. I assumed that you'd come with me. Unless you want to stay here."

"Oh." Eames blinks and stops smiling. "Right. When are we moving?"

"This weekend. I assume you have a passport you can use without drawing unwanted attention?"

"Of course I do. But wait, you bought a place in _another country_?"

Arthur gives him a look that says _please_ and, well, fair enough.

•

"It occurs to me," Eames says, his bags still in his hands in the front room of their new place, "that there is only one bedroom here."

Arthur doesn't even look up as he continues unpacking his bag, just replies with, "Yeah."

"So it's my turn to take the couch then, hm?"

This time, Arthur stops what he's doing and stares at Eames. "No."

"…No?"

" _No_ , Eames. The bed is big enough for both of us."

"But—" Eames pauses, his eyebrows drawing together. "Arthur, are we—did I not notice the fact that we're in a relationship?"

Arthur presses his lips into a thin line. "Apparently not."

Oh. _Oh_. Eames' mind is working frantically to try and think of when Arthur perceived this relationship to start, where he thinks they've progressed. Clearly, if they've moved in together—

"Eames." Arthur sounds absolutely calm, but there's a small grin tugging at his lips. "I'm fucking with you."

"Oh, you absolute fucking bastard—"

"But we could be. If you wanted it."

Eames watches Arthur closely, for any signs that this is yet another joke. Surely, in the time that they've been apart, Arthur has gotten over him and this is just another case of—who knows. An eye for an eye, perhaps. Surely, Eames has done enough in the past to warrant it.

Then again, Eames thinks to himself, Arthur doesn't heal. Arthur doesn't _get over_ things. This is going to be a mess and it's going to be the most wonderful mess that Eames has ever gotten himself into. He supposes that he _does_ enjoy challenges.

"Come here," he murmurs and as soon as Arthur is within arm's reach, pulls him close and kisses him until they're both breathless. Then he does it again.


End file.
